


Yes, Tom - Chapter 23

by riddlemetitillatedhiddles (ninecats)



Series: Yes, Tom [24]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF
Genre: Dom/sub, F/M, Face Slapping, Rough Sex, Sex, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 05:25:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/683336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninecats/pseuds/riddlemetitillatedhiddles





	Yes, Tom - Chapter 23

 

We didn't go back to the party. The limo drove around for a bit and then took us home. I was still a little mad, but Tom was… inconsolable by the time we got back to the house. I thought he would calm down, but he just became incommunicative. I had to help him get ready for bed, undressing him and everything. It was disconcerting. Before we went to bed, I curled up close, trying to soothe him. Kissing his forehead, running my fingers through his hair. He lay there stiffly, not reciprocating at all. I just kept telling him I forgave him, I loved him, and it would be okay. I wished I could believe the last one.

Tom didn't look at me, no matter what I said. Instead, he would just nod impassively, staring blankly down at the bed. With one hand, though, he clung to my t-shirt, twisting it around his finger then releasing and starting over. Figuring he was tired, too, I tried to push it out of my head. I was still somewhat inebriated, and I fell asleep quickly. Fitful sleep. But I still slept.

The next day was excruciating. He barely spoke. Stayed in bed almost all day. I had to force him to eat. Motionless, he lay on the bed and watched football for hours, barely acknowledging me. Whenever I tried to touch him, he recoiled. He let his phone ring and ring, so finally I had to answer it for him and basically be his assistant again. Only this time it was for more than just work. I even had to tell his mom he was a little under the weather. I hoped upon hope that once he got the moping out of his system things would go back to normal. I was hanging on by a thread, becoming more and more frustrated. He was already asleep again by the time I joined him in bed, his back facing me. Throughout the night, I could occasionally hear him crying softly, but when I tried to hold him, he pulled away and moved to the edge of the bed. It was brutally painful to have him shut me out so completely, even if it was temporary. Most of the night I had nightmares. I could see Tom, but he would look right through me. In another one, he was floating out into the ocean and I just watched him fade away. But I was exhausted, and eventually I fell into a deep sleep.

The next morning, the light in the room woke me. Immediately, I worried he was going to stay in bed all day again. I didn't know if I could live through another day of it. Rolling onto my other side, though, I saw he wasn't there. My stomach dropped and I sat up with a start. I was terrified that he had just left without telling me. I let every bad scenario play through my mind in the span of a few seconds. Before I could get up and look for him, though, he appeared in the doorway, a smile on his face and a tray of food in his hands. He had made me breakfast in bed. I was speechless.

"Good morning, darling! I didn't think you'd ever wake up," he joked, his voice betraying no hint of the last two days' issues. When he saw the look on my face, he kept the light mood going. "Oh, can't I make you breakfast in bed? You act like I never do anything nice for you! I'm terribly hurt." He put the tray on the bedside table and sat down next to me.

"No, of course I don't think that. Thank you, really, but…" It was confusing and surprising, but I tried to dismiss my doubts, thinking he might have just wanted to make up for everything.

"Here. Try the eggs. Honestly, darling, I make really fantastic eggs. And I made you coffee and everything… I know you love coffee… I hope it tastes okay." He fiddled around with the plate, rearranging and pushing things around. There was a little flower in a tiny cup of water, the napkin and silverware, everything arranged so perfectly and it was all so beautiful, but so… strange.

"Sir…"

"Please, Elizabeth, just…" His head dropped for a moment and when he looked back up, he somewhat frantically began to cut up the eggs. "Here, please just try some, okay? I will be devastated if you don't at least try it, I swear I'm a really good cook…" He laughed a little, but when I didn't speak, suddenly he stopped, like he'd hit a brick wall. 

"Sir, I…"

He interrupted me, cringing, his voice pleading. "Please, _please_ don't call me that." Sighing, he said it again, sounding even more pitiful. "Please don't call me that."

"I… I'm sorry… I don't understand." I tried to touch his hand and he pulled away from me, then started talking again, his voice back to the fake-happy babbling.

"Honestly, Elizabeth, I will be just utterly disappointed if you don't eat something…" He put some eggs on the fork and held it up to me. "Here darling please just try some…" Realizing how awkward everything was, he put the fork down and shook his head. I thought he was going to start crying, but then suddenly, he kissed me. It was uncomfortable. He was acting so strange, and after the previous day's pouting, I just didn't feel sexual towards him. Not like this. But he started groping me, and it was so pathetic, like he was trying to find his way. I thought maybe it would help him regain his dominance. I thought...

His eyes wide, he asked, "Can I take your shirt off?" It was such an odd question, considering how our life was. But I nodded and his shaky hands gingerly pulled the shirt over my head. I had to wear a bra all the time while my piercings healed, to keep the jewelry from getting caught on anything and thereby irritating the opening. Since he couldn't take my bra off, he started kissing and licking my cleavage. His hands trembling, his lips uncoordinated. I thought he'd never move. Passive lips on the heave of my chest, cold hands curled around my waist, no passion to be found. I didn't feel it. He didn't either; he was barely erect and usually it took no more than a kiss to get him rock hard, sometimes even less. I knew this was all some fucking bullshit insecurity thing, and I was slowly tiring of it.

"Can I…" 

"Oh god, Tom, really?" Sighing, I pulled my panties off. He was wearing boxers and a t-shirt, and he took his boxers off and lay to my side, his hand on my stomach. After a couple minutes of him grinding on my hip, his fingers found my clitoris and he began to massage it, so far oblivious to my lack of desire. He tried to push one finger inside. Staring at the ceiling, I whimpered a little and he stopped abruptly. I just wasn't excited enough, and it hurt a bit. 

"Oh my god are you okay?" Once he realized the problem, though, his face fell, and his voice got all whiny. "You aren't wet. You don't want me, do you?"

"Yes, I want you… why are you acting like this? Just… come here." I spread my legs and guided him on top of me, rubbing his tip into my slit, hoping once he just put his cock inside it would eventually get me wet and get him… something. I was praying an orgasm could assuage his self-doubt, help him find his purpose again, since apparently I couldn't. 

It was horrible. He went so slowly, so hesitantly. It was… inept almost. Every time he'd start to thrust, he'd stop and look at me. Finally he asked, "Does that feel good?"

I'd had enough. "No! It doesn't!" He pulled out, his erection gone and he just sat there. "Jesus, Tom, is this it? Really? Do something! Spank me, tie me up,  something… you know you want to."

"No, I don't." 

"Then show me something… feeling, anything. Anything but this."

"I can't…" He slid off the bed, pulling on his boxers and grabbing his trousers.

"Where are you going?"

"I'll be back later."

"Are you _leaving_? Tom, wait! Are you serious?" I tried to get off the bed, but I jostled the tray and the coffee spilled into the food and a little got on the floor. By the time I managed to get off the bed and downstairs, Tom was nowhere to be found. I had no idea what the fuck was going on, and I had no idea where he had gone.

****  

I tried to call and text and got no answer. I eventually gave up trying. Hours passed. I had cleaned up the mess and done all the dishes he left in the kitchen, and despite not receiving any further instruction or encouragement from Tom, I decided to start my journal. I wrote something short and simple, but tremendously heartfelt:

_Submitting to you makes me feel safe and loved. It is hard to give up control, but the rewards are worth it: strength. You are my source of strength. I feel strong because you help me feel that way. I know giving you control is safe and that you will protect me. I hope that doing this will also make you stronger. I want to please you and in doing so, I begin to learn more about myself and that makes me happy. I like knowing I can make mistakes and you won't judge me for it, the way I always judge myself. I know you punish me as much for me as for you, and I am so grateful that you do this for me. You make me a better and stronger person, sir, and I appreciate this more than you will ever know._

I sent it in an email, hoping he'd get it and just come home. I just wanted him home. It had been close to six hours, and I was worried and I was confused. About thirty minutes later, I was about to call his sister, when he walked in the door. I ran up and threw my arms around his waist. He stank of whiskey and he looked terrible.

"Oh my god, I was so worried…" He peeled my arms from around his body and walked past me, not saying a word. "Wait… you aren't even going to speak to me? Why won't you tell me what's wrong?"

Under his breath he muttered, " _I'm_ what's wrong…" Turning to face me, I could see now his eyes were red from crying and he pulled his phone out of his pocket, holding it up, my email visible on the screen. "What the fuck is this? _Why are you doing this to me?_ "

"Doing what to you? I don't understand. I thought that's what you wanted. You told me…"

"I can't do it, Elizabeth. I can't. I can't do it. I can't act like I'm… _this_ ," he held up the phone, like he was accusing me of something, continuing. "Not when it's obvious that I'm a fucking failure."

"A failure? What does that mean?"

"You know. You _know_ what it means. I cannot pretend to be your 'source of strength' when you know I bloody well have none!" He was hardly drunk, tipsy at most, but I was still annoyed. I sighed, frustrated, tired of Tom constantly telling me he'd be strong and then watching him promptly fall to pieces. _This is what this is all about? This shit? Again?_

"I'm not going to have this discussion when you're drunk. Come on, let's go upstairs and you can get in the shower and I'll bring you some tea."

"I'm not drunk!"

"Yes you are, now come on." I knew he wasn't, I just wanted to belittle him. Force his anger out. Force his true feelings out. He wasn't fooling me no matter how hard he tried.

"No!" I tried to take his hand and he jerked it away. "No. We need to talk about this now. I'm not drunk and I need to know… you're going to leave me aren't you? Aren't you?"

"What are you talking about? I told you I wouldn't leave you. I didn't lie. I do love you.  _Sir,_ I love you."

"Don't call me that. Don't ever call me that again!"

"What the fuck, Tom?" I shook my head, my brow furrowed as I searched his face desperately for answers. "Why did you even give me this, then? Why?" I held up my locket. The symbol of our love, our dynamic, our life.

"I'm sorry… I can't. I'm not…" He looked away from me, refusing to meet my gaze. 

"Fine, then. _Tom_. _Go upstairs_. Is this what you want, really? You _really_ want me to do this? Get your ass upstairs, take off your clothes, and get in the shower." My gaze cold, my voice patronizing.

"Don't you fucking tell me what to do!" He pointed his finger in my face. It was a visceral reaction almost, and it was the one I wanted. The one I'd been waiting patiently for. But it quickly faded. It wasn't enough. Exhaling slowly, he looked down, covering his face with his hands. "I can't do this. If I can't do this, is that enough for you?"

"Is it enough for _me_? Are you fucking serious? What about _you_? You can't even… you…" I was incensed, but arguing with him was not going to solve anything so I stopped myself. I knew what _would_ work, I just had to be patient for a little bit longer. I started to walk upstairs, brushing past him flippantly. Playing perfectly into my plan, he refused to let me go past, moving in front of me and blocking the way.

"I'm serious Elizabeth! I cannot do this… I'm weak and I'm pathetic, and I can't…"

"Go upstairs. Now. If you want to act like a little boy, I'll treat you like a little boy," I ordered condescendingly, a slight smirk just barely showing.

Tilting his head slightly, his eyes narrowed. His jaw clamped shut, his cheek pulsating as he ground his teeth together. Voice low, menacing but soft, his eyes darkened. _Almost there_. "What did you just say to me?"

Staring straight at him, I didn't move, didn't flinch. "You heard me."

"Say it again, then, darling."

"No, _Tom_." I was determined to say 'no' as many times as possible. To refuse to give him anything he asked me for at all. To be as defiant and as impudent as I could. I knew he couldn't take it." _You._ Go upstairs, _now_. Get in the shower. Then maybe I'll discuss this with you."

He lunged at me, grabbing my hair, and I yelped. "You disrespectful…" I smacked his arm away and he let go almost immediately.

I turned, hissing at him, pounding his chest with my fists. "Don't you _ever_ ask me if it's enough. Don't you fucking act like this is me getting you to do something you don't want to do… You found me! _You_ found _me_!!! And now you want to abandon me!"

His face drained, and he stood there for a moment, his mouth agape. "I… Elizabeth that's not…"

"Oh yes, it is. You are a selfish fucking asshole, Tom. And yes, I am _through_ if you pull this shit with me again. You cannot get me to be vulnerable like this and make me trust and make me show you everything, give you everything, then just expect me to…"

"But that's… seriously? You'd leave me because I don't want to…" I could hardly take the look on his face. I didn't want to leave him, I didn't. But I couldn't play games like this anymore. It was all or nothing and he wanted to be able to have it like this when it suited him, then leave me floating, with nothing to hold onto for support because his ego got bruised. It wasn't fair. And I wasn't going to take it any longer.

"You _do_ want to. It has nothing to do with what you want. Earlier? That's your idea of living without it? No passion at all?"

"It won't always be like that, we'll get used to it. We have to! Are we going to get married? Have kids? Have you thought about that at all?" Marriage. Kids. We hadn't discussed it really. Hypothetical? Of course. But realistically? Never. That this was the first discussion ever about our conceivable future was somewhat discouraging and completely heartbreaking.

"Yes, I have thought about it. Have you? Because who cares? _So fucking what_? You think it would change that much?"

"Are you fucking daft? Of course it bloody changes things! It changes everything!" His face was in mine now, and I backed away, refusing to let him stand on equal ground with me.

"Not enough to make this big of a deal over it. We can find a way. But…dear god if all you want is excuses and reasons not to, then fuck this." I turned around and instead of trying to go upstairs, I grabbed my coat and my purse and headed for the door. "You can't make me like this and then expect…"

"No. You _will not_ leave. Not now. I mean it. I'm not finished." _Finally._

Turning on my heel, I smirked, my hand on my hip, scoffing. "What?!"

"You heard me. You are not allowed to leave." He pointed his finger at me, daring me to defy him. I was ready.

"You can't tell me what to do," I mocked, my voice dripping with sarcasm. Then, more seriously, "You can't do this halfway. I'm sick of it." I turned around, continuing towards the door. Under my breath, I sneered, "Self-pitying little boy…" That was all it took. He grabbed me by the hair and led me roughly over towards the couch. I fought him. I slapped at his arm, trying futilely to get him to let me go. Attempted to pry his fingers from my hair. Collapsing to the floor, I tried to be dead weight, but he just continued dragging me and it hurt even worse. When that didn't work I began to scream. He smacked me across the face, then pulled me onto his lap. Without another word, he began to spank me relentlessly. 

After he had hit me several times, he chastised me, "You will _never_ talk to me that way again, do you understand?"

"No! You can't have this halfway!" I had to make sure. I wasn't going to let him play me anymore. If this was it, then this was it. If we were going to be like this, then we _were this_ , or we were nothing. It was too confusing, too painful, to be tossed back and forth and it was destroying my self-esteem. And his.

"Shut. Your. Mouth." He pulled my panties down and continued to spank me, harder, as I fought non-stop, forcing him to subdue me. He grabbed my arm, twisting it around to the small of my back, but proceeding unabated. Wriggling, kicking, crying, nothing worked. Past 20 already, he did not give and I could tell he had no intention of stopping soon. Completely erect now, his cock jutted against me each time I moved. 

"No… _please_ don't… I can't do this again, Tom." The sound of his hand smacking my now-bare bottom echoed through the high ceilings of the living room, my cries following suit.

"You do not call me that. Say it!"

"No! You just told me… Ow…" The pain was a bit much. I tried to clear my head, but my emotions and all the stress of the past couple of days had drained me. I was jelly. I barely had the strength to tense my muscles. And I was so excited by now, I could feel my panties getting wet.

"Say. It."

"No! How do I know you mean it… I can't _do_ this again…." I was sobbing by this point, not only from the pain of the spanking, but the uncertainty. I could not take living through this again.

Abruptly, he stopped, rubbing my ass lovingly, tenderly. Leaning down, he whispered in my ear, "You're right, darling. And I'm sorry. I'm _so_ sorry. I promise, I will never again try to be something I'm not. And I am your master. Understood?" Nodding eagerly, my heart swelled. His voice so soft and sweet, I felt so safe. Then his tone turned dark again. "But your disrespect will be corrected. You will be punished. Now you say it or we'll be here all fucking night."

"Yes sir…" I said it quietly, my voice tremulous and soft, my resolve the same. 

"Say it!" He spat the words, his lips against my ear, and I whimpered, but obeyed.

"Yes, sir!"

"Good girl," he purred, then kissed my cheek and rewarded me by spanking me even harder, brutally, his huge hands seeming to gain speed and force as he continued. Each time he hesitated for a half a second, I thought it was over, but it only made him more determined. I had never felt so safe and loved by him. 

"Please, I'm so sorry, sir…" Unable to take much more, I pleaded with him. 

"Sorry for what, love?" 

"For being disrespectful…" I was exhausted. And so was Tom. 

"Good girl. Get on the floor and show me what's mine." I smiled just a little as I slid off his lap, prostrating myself in front of him, my ass in the air, shoulders to the floor. "Touch yourself." I did, eagerly spreading my legs wider as I arched my back. Undoing his trousers, he knelt behind me, pushing just the tip into my wet folds. "Elizabeth… so wet. Mmm god, yes." He slid into me but didn't thrust. Instead, he rotated his hips, buried deep inside my cunt as I continued to masturbate for him. All for him.

"Sir… ohhh…" It felt fucking amazing. I didn't know how long I could last, and my emotions and everything had me ready to explode.

"Not yet, darling. Obey me." Groaning with each movement, he began to rock his hips, still completely sheathed by my walls.

Whining, "Yes, sir," I tried to concentrate on him and ignore my impending climax. I contracted my muscles around his length, rolled my hips just slightly towards him, undulating beneath him. He placed his hands on my thighs, forcing me to spread my legs even farther.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes, sirrrr…" The words were moans with syllables, but he let it go. I was panting, needy and desirous.

"Come for me, then. Come for me, Elizabeth," he commanded, and it didn't take long. Less than ten seconds later, I felt my body separate and everything that had pent up inside of me burst into a swirl of light and sensation. My orgasm hit me and a switch just reset; I let go. Such relief and release combined in one simple yet powerful occurrence.

"Oh god, sir… fu-uck!" When Tom felt my walls begin to convulse, he began to thrust, mercilessly, as I rode out my orgasm, intensifying it and elongating it. I moaned, I yelled, I cried out, my body trembling and my mind at peace.

"There's my girl, there's my good girl… Oh god yes…" Smacking my hip, he moved forward and held my head down with one hand, fucking me harder. I could sense he was close, and as my orgasm finally resolved, he pulled out, gruffly ordering me, "Lie on your back. I'm going to come on your face, darling." 

"Yes, sir." Quickly I flipped onto my back and he straddled my chest. Cradling my neck with one hand, he used his other to stroke himself off.

"Open your mouth… oh fuck… keep it… open… oh god, fuck, Elizabeth…" He came forcefully, shooting hot and thick into my waiting mouth. "Good girl.. Now lick it off." Still supporting my head with his hand, he guided me towards his cock and I took him into my mouth, sucking until he let me go. Then I lay back, waiting patiently.

Moving to my side, he lay down, his arm around my waist, holding me close. "Are you okay, sir?"

Nodding, he looked at me, a subdued smile just emerging on his lips. "I'm sorry Elizabeth. I am. I'm sorry. You're right. You were right all along." He brushed his lips against mine, shaking his head a little, and then repeated it emphatically, "I'm so sorry. About everything. I love only you. You're the only one I've ever loved. I don't want anyone but you. And I promise, no more trying to be something I'm not. Will you stay with me, please?"

Drained, I closed my eyes for a moment. I had no choice, really. I could do nothing but acquiesce. I was his. I belonged to him, and it's all I truly wanted. Inside, I was conflicted; I knew there was the possiblity that this was not the end of our problems. My heart, though, wanted him to bear that burden. I couldn't do it any longer. Not on this night, anyway. I needed him to truly stand behind his words and be strong for me.

Our lips met again, breathless and urgent, and I whispered it into his mouth, "Yes, sir."


End file.
